Dinner and Red Ice
by Eira Lloyd
Summary: There's only one week left of exams, but Markus is already done. Not with his exams, no, but with the fact that he's just returned to the apartment and found their previously near-empty fridge full of even more ready-made meals. Somebody's just restocked on some really unhealthy food and Markus doesn't like it.


**A/N: I wrote this for RK1K Week, day 5. I combined the prompts "Roommates AU" and "You make me feel". I should probably point out I know nothing about how university works in the US so I tried to base it on my own experience in the UK, yet keeping it as vague as possible. These guys have been doing more revision than I have and I'm the one who's actually in the middle of a very important exam period, but never mind xD This was a bit rushed, as I wrote it today, and it didn't quite come out as I wanted, but it's the best I can do for now. Hope you enjoy!**

Dinner and Red Ice

Exams are a stressful period for everyone. It means entire days meant for studying, but actually spent lounging about and being stressed about the idea of studying. It means entire conversations with friends about the materials they're supposed to be learning, only to get side-tracked whenever a more interesting topic comes up. It means hours of staring at a page full of notes, eyes swimming in exasperation, and never actually taking anything in.

Markus seems to handle exam period better than most. If his friends need him, he's there, ready to discuss their own material with them, or distract them from the hours of learning they're supposed to be doing. If asked about his own revision, he will explain the last thing he remembered reading an hour earlier. If asked how his studying is going, he will reply, "Great, what about yours?" and proceed to listen to hours of ranting about how awful revising is.

When actually, his own studying isn't going that well.

If there's one thing Markus hates is being locked away. But now, as it's exam season, he spends more time than ever stuck in his room — not out of free will, but out of lack of alternatives. He alternates between painting while listening to the recordings of his lectures and rereading his notes and textbook while listening to his favourite playlist of classical and instrumental music.

He doesn't like this.

When he's alone, he has too much time to think. And while he usually wouldn't mind, right now his thoughts only go in directions he doesn't want them to. He thinks about Carl — his adoptive father, who passed away last November —, and Leo, the estranged brother he hasn't seen since the funeral. He thinks of Simon, his best friend who moved away for a year abroad and hasn't spoken to him in a good two weeks. He thinks of North and Josh, all minding their own business — they meet up for lunch every now and then, but most of their interactions are through texts.

It's a very quiet and lonely existence, and the fact that his entire apartment has been practically muted doesn't help. His new roommate — a criminology student named Connor — moved in at the beginning of the last term but has been hiding out in his room ever since. He used to at least go out for meals and eat with him in the small table in the kitchen whenever they were both at the apartment, but now that exam season has started, the young man is surviving on nothing but ready meals that he heats up in the oven or microwave, only to bring to his room and probably munch on them as he keeps revising for whatever exam he has next.

That is worrying on so many levels, yet Markus doesn't dare intrude on his new roommate's study time.

He's taken to eating his meals in his room as well, but that just worsens the lonely feeling in his chest, and he wishes he had enough courage to go and knock on Connor's door. As it is, he's lucky if he even sees him during the day, as the young man is extremely quiet when he wants to be, and if it weren't for the gradually disappearing ready-meal packages in the fridge, Markus would think he's not eating at all.

He sighs, shakes his head, pauses the recording.

There he is again, unable to study because he's too busy thinking about Connor. A common occurrence lately — though he refuses to admit it, no matter how much his friends pester him about it —, though this time it genuinely bothers him. It bothers him because he should be paying attention to the recordings and studying. It bothers him because it's just another distraction he can't get rid of.

It bothers him because he hadn't seen said distraction in a while, and though he rationally knows that Connor is alive and is okay, _he still worries._

(North would laugh and call him a mother hen if she knew, but that's exactly why she doesn't need to know.)

But really, as the son of someone who needed constant care, and as a nursing student, taking care of others comes naturally. And the only person around who seems to need any sort of help in that department is his new roommate — the same one that has been intruding in his thoughts for the past couple of months.

With yet another sigh, he rewinds the last five minutes of his lecture and starts painting again.

Maybe this time he'll actually pay attention to what he's supposed to be learning.

(And if the finished painting resembles Connor a little too much, there's nothing he can do about it — not that he'd want to in the first place.)

* * *

There's only one week left of exams, but Markus is already done.

Not with his exams, no, but with the fact that he's just returned to the apartment and found their previously near-empty fridge full of even more ready meals.

Somebody's just restocked on some really unhealthy food and Markus doesn't like it.

He has seen the plastic pots covered in film and cardboard for far too long, putting up with their offending presence as he at least _attempts_ to cook something for himself, trying to make time for the closest he will get to a healthy meal, time restraints considered. But this? This is insane. Markus won't stand for it.

Everyone has a limit, and this is the last straw.

With a shake of his head, the young man grabs his bag and his wallet and leaves for the supermarket. He doesn't care anymore — whether he's interrupting some important study session or not, his flatmate will have a proper dinner tonight, and a bit of rest from whatever exam he's studying for this time.

He's not sure what to buy or make, so he buys a bit of everything instead. It will last him a good couple of weeks — if he manages to make space in the fridge, that is — so that's an added bonus. But his priority is, of course, tonight's dinner. And, though he's no Michelin-star chef, he _is_ a decent cook. He can do this. He's confident of that.

Now how he's going to get Connor to leave his room for an hour, he doesn't know, but he figures he can deal with it later.

One problem at a time, right?

Right.

* * *

As it turns out, Markus doesn't have to drag Connor out of his room. Once he starts cooking, the smell is enough to attract the young man, who peeks out of his room and eventually ends up leaving it entirely, headphones on and mobile phone in hand.

"Hi," Markus greets him, unable to keep a smile away from his face when he spots the man he hasn't seen in what feels like an eternity.

"Hello," Connor replies, uncovering one of his ears to be able to listen to him. "That smells good. What are you cooking?"

His smile goes wider at the praise. "Lasagne. Do you want to join me for dinner? It's been a while since I've made this, but it's easier than I remembered." He expects to get an automatic rejection, but when his words are met by silence, he perks up a little. Maybe this will be easier than he thought. "I promise I won't poison you."

"I'm studying," comes the expected reply.

"Well, you've got another hour until this is done. And then you can take a break." Silence again. But the young man won't give up. "You've been eating ready meals for the past month, Connor, and that's not healthy." _Here we go again, mother hen._ The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like North. He decides to ignore it. "Just for tonight. Then you can get back to your chicken-and-crime meal deal tomorrow. How does that sound?"

Connor sighs — it's the sigh of someone who fought and lost a battle they knew was doomed from the start. "Very well, I'll join you for dinner tonight. But at least let me help you before you burn the building down."

Markus is too busy beaming at him to be insulted by his comment.

* * *

"What were you listening to?"

"Sorry?"

The headphones are now hanging from his neck; Connor must've forgotten all about them as they were cooking. Markus wonders if the music is still blasting through them, or if the young man turned it off before helping him finish the lasagne.

The nursing student motions towards the headphones, and comprehension dawns on the young man. "Oh. It's nothing. Just some background music to help me focus." He pulls his phone out of his pocket and Markus realises the music has been on the whole time.

"Can I…?" He motions towards the music and Connor nods. He seems nervous for a second, but the expression is gone almost as soon as it appeared, and the young man can't tell whether he imagined that or not.

He brings the headphones closer to his ears, only to quickly pull them away as he realises exactly what kind of music it is and how _loud_ they are. "You listen to _heavy metal_ to focus on your studying? How does that work? Doesn't it distract you?"

Connor laughs. It's a small, quiet, unexpected laugh, but Markus leans on the counter behind him to steady himself, because he must've heard that laugh only twice in the past four months and he definitely wasn't expecting to hear it again so soon.

He wishes he could hear it more often.

"It used to at first, but eventually, I got used to it. It's kind of difficult not to, when the only so-called responsible adult in the house blasts music every hour of the day. And now I can't focus without it. When I moved into the halls, I actually missed it. Silence can be a bit more… overwhelming than music, even heavy metal."

Markus knows the feeling.

"Well, you're welcome to play it on your speakers if you want. It won't bother me." The words leave his mouth before he can stop them because — well, that's an outright _lie_. Heavy metal is not part of his studying repertoire and it would most likely distract him, if not drive him crazy eventually. But now that he's made the proposition, he can't take it back.

North mustn't be allowed to know this happened. She wouldn't _just_ laugh at his pain — she would never let it go either.

Connor lets out another small laugh and Markus blinks, half-certain he imagined that. He couldn't possibly have heard that specific sound twice in one night. "If I did, _you_ wouldn't be able to focus on your exams, and the neighbours would want to kick me out. It's probably for the best if I stick to my headphones. But thank you for the offer."

Markus doesn't think he's ever felt more relieved than at that moment.

"Right. Well…"

He's saved from coming up with a reply when the alarm on his phone goes off, announcing that their homemade meal is ready.

* * *

The lasagne is surprisingly good, even though it was made by a team of two who had not cooked said dish in longer than they cared to admit. Although the food is nothing compared to the company, if Markus is being honest.

He had missed this.

He had missed the companionship that came with living with a roommate. For the past month, he'd felt like he lived alone, and the feeling remained with him when he had started cooking, but then Connor joined him and an hour later, all loneliness he had ever felt in the last few weeks vanished, as if it had never been there in the first place.

He wonders if the feeling will vanish when Connor leaves, hides behind the door that leads to his room, buries himself in textbooks and lecture notes and heavy metal. He wonders if the loneliness will return, gripping at him harder than ever before, reminding him of the company he now lost.

It's a bit of a depressing thought — one he would like to avoid, especially as Connor hasn't left yet, even though he finished his piece of lasagne a good thirty minutes ago. But he's still there, and they're still talking about random things, about their past, their present, and their future.

Markus wishes this moment would never end.

But of course, as soon as that thought pops into his mind, the criminology student decides to call it a night. "I should go."

"Back to studying already?" He tries to fake a smile, the threat of loneliness ever-present in the corner of his mind and threatening to jump at him as soon as Connor leaves the room.

"I _did_ just take a two-hour break. I need to go back to my red ice now."

Markus blinks. Did he hear that right? That wasn't… that wasn't his imagination, was it? "Your… red ice?"

"Yeah, why—" Connor's eyes widen as he realises what he just said. "Oh. _Oh_. No, I don't—I don't have any red ice. I just… It's the topic I'm studying right now. For my exam. For my module on alcohol and drugs and their relation to crime."

And _oh_ , okay, that makes sense.

"Right." He pushes away the image that comes of Leo and the last time he saw him. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on those things, especially now.

"Do you mind if I wash the rest of the dishes tomorrow? I really do need to get back to my revision now."

Markus waves his concerns away. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of the washing up."

"But you were the one who cooked. It's only fair that I—"

"Connor, we cooked together because you didn't want me to burn the building down, remember? Not that I would have, because I'll have you know I'm a very good cook," he points out. The criminology student shakes his head, unconvinced. Whether he's unconvinced about cooking together or he's doubting his cooking skills, Markus doesn't know. "Tell you what: I wash the dishes now, and you get to cook _me_ dinner next week."

"Oh, we're doing this a weekly occurrence, then?" Connor doesn't seem too put off by the idea, which is excellent. "All right. Same day, same time, my choice of meal."

"Perfect. It's a date."

For a moment, his heart stops beating as he realises exactly what he just said. He would very much like to take it back, but before he can even _think_ about how to do that, Connor casually replies, "It's a date," and heads to his bedroom.

Markus grins. "Good luck with your revision!"

"Thanks, you too."

Washing the dishes doesn't take long and soon he's back in his bedroom, contemplating what kind of studying he will do today. But, unlike before, he doesn't feel cold or lonely. He can't recall the last time he felt like that even when he was on his own — before exams, probably; before the mess that was the December holidays and the November family drama that was still ongoing —, but he really missed the feeling.

He wishes he had known it would only take two hours spent with Connor to bring that back — he would have done it a lot sooner.

As it is, he only feels grateful now.

 _Thank you for making me feel less lonely._

He wonders if one day he will bring himself to say those words aloud.

Maybe one day he will. When exams are over, and when these real-meal Mondays become a habit rather than an occasional occurrence. Maybe when he knows for sure if they're on a proper date, or if what was said was simply the common use of an expression.

But until then, he has other things to do.

He opens his textbook and resumes his revision.


End file.
